


Tourist Attraction

by Edge_of_Clairvoyance



Series: Tourist Attraction [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Arrested Dean Winchester, Gen, Humor, It's For a Case, POV Outsider, Pre-Series, Slice of Life, Young Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 19:06:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12348801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edge_of_Clairvoyance/pseuds/Edge_of_Clairvoyance
Summary: Just a merry little tale about Dean and John's encounter with a small-town police, from the local sheriff's POV.





	Tourist Attraction

Sheriff Morgan had a good day. A very good day. He had time to finish some old paperwork at the office, have lunch with his daughter on her break from the clinic, help Reverend Tate put up the sign for the church bake-off, drive around town for an hour or so, and wrap it up with a cup of fine coffee at Lydia's diner before heading home.

The evening was even better, with a supper of pot roast after which he set with Rachel and a nice cold beer to watch reruns of "All in the Family" and laugh till they were ready to go to bed. Yep, a very good day indeed.

Then his police radio went off at one-fifteen in the morning.

And now he was in his car, making his way to the station, trying not to curse out load, even though he was alone.

It was really his fault. Deputy McIntyre was barely out of the academy, and Deputy Wood had a whole six-month seniority over him. In other words, both of them as green as they come. But he thought nothing of leaving them to do the graveyard shift by themselves. It wasn't as if he had much choice anyway; both of the Knight brothers were on vacation in Boston, of all places, Walker was down with the flu, and Wahlberg and Starr were already doing too much overtime as it was. And really, when did anything even remotely serious _ever_ happened in the upstanding community of Toledo Springs, Oregon?

Apparently when the only two noobs in the department were doing graveyard, that's when.

He hoped to God they didn't screw anything up.

McIntyre was waiting for him at the main entrance, practically bouncing up and down. Morgan resisted the urge to hold him still with both hands, and instead just said, "okay, fill me in."

"We received a call reporting strange noises coming from 245 Ocean Lane-"

Morgan groaned. "Not old Mrs. Collins with her ghost sighting again?"

"Yes, sir, but this time she said she saw a light, too, like somebody was using a flashlight around the Pearlman place. So we went out, no sirens, got there in a jiffy. The front door is still boarded up, but the back door was opened. He must have picked the lock. We caught him in the living room, red handed."

McIntyre was smiling so broadly his face looked like it was going to split in half. He did deserve a pat on the back, so Morgan said, "nice work, kid. Did he managed to steal anything?"

"He was holding one of those little figurines when we jumped him, didn't even have time to put it in his pocket. We placed it in an evidence bag. He also had these," McIntyre held up a clear plastic bag that incased a nickel plated, .45 caliber Colt semi-automatic with ivory handles, and a bowie knife. Morgan nearly whistled.

"Anything else missing around the house?"

"Well, you can't really tell, can you? With all the knickknacks there, and with everything's so jumbled up as it is. Whichever heir who wins the place will probably have to get a truck to clear it out."

"By the time they sort out the will, they'll have flying saucers instead of trucks. Alright, let's take a look at that perp of yours. Got an ID on him?"

"Yes, sir," McIntyre handed him an out-of-state driver's license. "Ran it through the system. Nothing, not even a parking ticket."

Morgan peeked at the license, took a few steps forward, and then turned around. "Did you Mirandize him?"

McIntyre's blue eyes went too big for Morgan's taste, and his face too pale. "I… I didn't, but I'm almost certain Wood did."

"You're _almost_ certain?" Oh, God, there it was.

"Look, it was a bit of a mess there, with us rushing in, and the arrest, and the adrenaline, I didn't hear Wood so clearly every second, but I'm sure he Mirandized the guy. I mean, he wouldn't have forgotten… right?"

All Morgan could do was sigh heavily. Here they were, the first arrest for Breaking and Entering in God knows how many years – counting out all those teenagers doing it for the dare or out of boredom, which could very well still be the case here, gun or not – and the newbies just sent it all to hell. They were damn lucky it was just the old Pearlman place and all the suspect touched was a worthless figurine. Morgan could make this gone if he played it right. Maybe the guy wouldn't even sue.

Morgan walked past the front desk, down the hall and into the interview room. Wood was standing just inside the door, hands braced on his belt, in a stance that was probably meant to signal the perp that there was no way he'd be letting him out. He looked very impressive with his uniforms snug against his well-muscled body, but his tough façade compromised a bit when he jumped as the sheriff settled a hand on his shoulder. He quickly regained his former stance, but with his face somewhat reddened.

The suspect was handcuffed to the table in the interview room, and Morgan took a minute to look him over. His driver's license said he was twenty-one, but he didn't look a day over eighteen. A good-looking lad, too, with short, spiky dark-blond hair, bright green eyes and full lips set in a slightly freckled face. He was dressed in a battered brown leather jacket, and as the sheriff came in he flashed him a charming, carefree smile. Morgan was willing to bet that smile made nine out of ten girls go back home with this boy. The tenth was probably gay.

"You're quite a long way from Chicago, aren't you now, Mr. MacLeod?"

"The word of your fair city traveled far and wide, Sheriff."

"That was no tourist attraction you were apprehended in."

"It wasn't? Could've fooled me," the cheerful smile didn't even falter.

"I think the boarded-up front door, the locked back door and the 'Private Property, No Trespassing' signs should have tipped you off."

MacLeod shrugged. "It was dark."

"Probably why you needed a flashlight. Although, what would you need that handsome gun for?"

"In Chicago we take The Second Amendment to heart. Look, Sheriff, this is all just a big misunderstanding."

Morgan planted his hands on the table and leaned a bit closer. "Yes, it is, Mr. MacLeod. One big misunderstanding. That being you, misunderstanding that burglary is a _serious_ offence that we don't take lightly here at Toledo Springs. Now, you can start giving some honest answers, or the only other tourist attraction you'll be seeing for a while is the inside of a holding cell. What'll it be, boy?"

MacLeod looked up at him, but before he said anything, McIntyre stuck his head in through the door.

"Ah, Sheriff? I think you better come out here."

Morgan straightened back up, signaled at Wood to stay put, and turned toward the exit. He threw a glance over his shoulder before he left. MacLeod was watching him calmly, that cocky grin still fixed on his face.

Morgan followed McIntyre to the front desk, where a tall, impressive man was waiting for him. He had dark hair, long dark bristles that were just a little short of a beard, and piercing eyes. There was an air of authority about him.

"Sheriff Morgan? I'm Agent Cornick, FBI," he flashed a badge and Morgan repressed another sigh. Such a good day he was having.

"What can I do you for, Agent?"

"I understand you have a man here under arrest."

"I do. My deputies caught him B&E. What's it to the FBI?"

"I believe he might be one of our wanted men."

Now Morgan nearly burst out laughing. "An FBI most-wanted? Here?!"

Agent Cornick's hazel eyes narrowed. "Something funny there, Sheriff?"

"No, sir, not at all. Just that my greenest guys managed to get their hands on somebody the feds couldn't."

The corner of Cornick mouth turned a bit. "Beginners' luck, I guess?"

"Yeah, wouldn't you say," Morgan cocked his head. "And how come you know about it already?"

"We carry police scanners, you know. My partner and I tracked him down here to this county but had no more leads. We took the night off, went for a drink, and my partner ended up going with this lady back to her motel room. They probably have the 'Do Not Disturb' sign up," he smirked, and Morgan smirked back. "So I was going to turn in, when I caught on your little action and came right down here to check it out. The suspect's name they mentioned on the report, Roderick F. MacLeod, that's the name he was last using."

"The driver's license looks genuine."

For some reason, the agent seemed pleased with that observation. "Well, it _could_ be genuine, if I'm mistaken and this is not my guy. Why don't you let me take a look at him, and if he isn't, I'll bid you goodnight. But if he is the guy I'm after, I'll take him off your hands, and gladly add your little B &E to our case against him. What do you say, Sheriff?"

Let the feds take the suspect _and_ the case and have them sort out the Miranda slip-up, the unreliable witness and which one of the Pearlman heirs should be the one to press charges? Nobody told him it was Christmas already. He led Agent Cornick back to the interview room.

MacLeod looked up when they walked in, and didn't seem surprised in the least to see Cornick. "Agent. Took you long enough."

"Nice to see you still believe you have a reason to smile."

"You should check out the local tourist attractions, they're awesome."

"That's your guy?" Morgan inquired. Cornick gave a curt nod.

"Sheriff, may I present Andreas M. Sheppard, wanted for multiple cases of mail fraud and credit card scams."

"That so? Well, I hope he's better at that than the burglary thing."

Cornick grinned. "He actually is. His old man taught him well."

"So that's a family business?"

"You can say that, yes," Morgan couldn't help but notice that both the agent's and the suspect's grins widened about the same. "You have whatever it was he was trying to steal?"

Morgan turned to McIntyre, who produced an evidence bag and passed in on to Cornick. The agent lifted it up and turned it to and fro, so they could all see the figurine it held. It was about four inches high, made of either ivory or bone, and resembled a little totem pole. It looked like the kind of thing one might find at a Reservation's gift shop.

"Now that's an ugly piece of work," Morgan opinioned. Cornick glanced over at MacLeod – no, it was Sheppard – whose eyes flickered momentarily to the figurine and back to the agent, and then turned his gaze to the sheriff.

"It sure is. Probably worthless, too. Does it look like plastic to you?" Cornick folded the bag with the figurine in it and stuffed it into his coat pocket. "I'll need to keep it as evidence."

"Of course. If you want to wait a bit, we'll have the arrest reports ready for you. Won't take longer than half an hour," at least he hoped so, considering neither McIntyre nor Wood had ever composed such a report in their entire uneventful career.

"Take your time. We'll head back to DC and contact you from there, and you can mail it over. No rush."

"Sure thing, Agent," he motioned Wood over to unchain Sheppard from the table, as Agent Cornick produced his own set of handcuffs. "Would you like us to escort you until you meet with your partner? Maybe you shouldn't take him on your own, he was armed when we apprehended him." Morgan held out the bag with the suspect's weapons and Cornick took it and tucked it offhandedly under his arm.

"Thank you, but it wouldn't be necessary. He'll behave. Won't you, Sheppard?"

"Yes, sir," there was an amused glint in the kid's eyes that Morgan couldn't quite decipher.

"Nonetheless, I'd put the cuffs behind the back."

Cornick shrugged. "Was gonna do that anyway. C'mon, kid, we haven't got all night."

Sheppard got up, walked over to Cornick and turned around to let the agent handcuff his wrists behind his back. Then he turned again and smiled at Morgan.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Sheriff. It has been a short yet insightful visit, and I do regret not having the time to see more of the sites in your beautiful town."

Even though Morgan knew that Sheppard was a criminal, a crook, a burglar and an FBI most-wanted – in other words, a bad guy – he couldn't help but smile back. That boy really was adorable.

"My offer for a holding cell here at Toledo Springs still stands, son," he said.

"Thanks, I think I'm good," with that the agent and his prisoner walked out of the station and off to the curb, where a beautiful '60-something Chevrolet Impala was parked. Its sleek, black body glistened under the street lights.

Morgan stood on the front steps watching Cornick as he eased Sheppard into the back seat – he thought he saw the agent cuff him gently upside the head, but he must have been wrong, a federal agent surely wouldn't do that – and then Cornick waved at him before climbing into the driver's seat and making the engine purr to life.

So.

A first graveyard shift for the department's noobs, a B&E arrest, a major procedural screw-up, but an FBI most-wanted bust and the whole mess thankfully taken off his hands as neatly as you please to be worked out at DC, and a story to keep the department – hell, the entire _town_ – excited for weeks. His eyes followed the car as it sailed down Main Street until it merged into the night and vanished from view.

All things considered, it was a good day.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you caught on all the name referances :)  
> If you didn't it's fine, as long as you enjoyed the story.
> 
> Like my works? Want to subscribe and get updates on new stories? Make sure you subscribe to the **user** and not the specific work!


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